Blossom
by singer22498
Summary: It all started with a single slip of paper. One name, neatly printed in ink. That was all it took for the Capitol to begin to break me. Annie Cresta POV
1. Prologue

You can't go back, not from these nightmares, these ways.

It is impossible, once you're there.

Sadly though, you'll never understand until you're chosen.

And that is the worst feeling in the world.

It is the worst possible event that could ever happen to you.

And it happened to me.

I'm Annie Cresta.

This is my story.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Whenever I begin to go back to that day, the beginning of the rest of my life, I always think to myself: _Why did you say yes? _ The fact is, I actually have never really answered that question. Not truthfully, at least. Maybe it was to make my parents happy, to prove myself to my friends. Maybe it was because I couldn't make my mouth form the correct words at the moment, just accepted that my name had been called. No one volunteered though, that I remember. There was an odd drop in people volunteering that year; usually we had at least two girls or boys fighting to get up to the stage.

That year though, no one tried to take my place as I walked up to the stage, trying to seem confident, arrogant. I couldn't make myself do that though; be a Career. I wasn't a Career; I was just Annie Cresta, a fisherman's daughter, a lover of the sea. My instincts weren't to fight, they were to flee, to escape. As I stumbled up those steps and reached the microphone, I was about ready to crumple in defeat. My peers were snickering, strangers were groaning about how they would have a scrawny tribute this year; no way would she become the victor. Frankly, the same thoughts were running through my head as well. Without any training, winning the Hunger Games sounded like a miracle for me.

"Are you Annie Cresta, dear? How old are you?" The high-pitched voice of the Capitol woman rang in my ears, and I blinked at her bright, fuchsia-colored eyebrows and corkscrew curls. Her lips were a blood red, which contrasted scarily with her pale white skin.

"Yes, I'm sixteen." I managed a quick reply before standing where she pointed on the stage, a few feet from the girl's reaping ball. It took me a moment to register that I was indeed standing beside our district escort, Dorathea Elphinstone. She was known for literally being covered in a single color, each year, save for her blood red lips. It looked like purple was her color this year, a copycat of Ceasar Flickerman.

"Alright, now for the boys!" Dorathea's voice rang in my ears once again; it was just way too high-pitched for my liking. It reminded me of a half dead mouse, squealing with all of its might as the cat murdered it. That gave me a strange urge to chuckle, but I resisted, watching to see whom I would be partnered with in the arena. Most likely the boy would be a Career, and I was determined to stay out of his way.

"Our boy tribute is… James O'Shan!" Dorathea's voice interrupted my thoughts once again, and I watched a bit humorously as James O'Shan showed his face. Usually this would be the time for volunteers, the boy volunteers, but once again there were none. I found that odd once again; had the Careers given up? Were none of them old enough yet? My eyes found the rather tall boy as he untangled himself from two younger boys, probably his brothers. His hair was thick and sandy blonde; his eyes a clear blue. His walk was the confident stride of a Career as he sauntered to the stage, but his expression suggested otherwise. In that expression, I saw fear. Maybe this was the year of weaklings for our district, though I didn't totally count myself as a weakling; I was strong, just not very good with a weapon. Plenty of winners of the games were untrained though, so my chances were the same as everyone else.

"Annie, shake his hand." Dorathea's voice interrupted my thoughts for the third time, and for the first time I noticed how spacy I was being. To the viewers of the reapings, I obviously looked like an idiot, and that I hated. Blinking back to the present time, I carefully grasped James's hand, and he seemed to give me a reassuring squeeze. What was that supposed to mean? Did he want me to be his friend? I think I knew this boy though; he was sixteen just like I was, maybe in the same grade, the same classes. Yes, I thought I remembered now, people mocking him about his funny name, O'Shan. _Ocean. _Wonderful really, a foolish way to mock someone, for their name.

He was fairly unpopular, though he had friends, unlike me. Friends weren't a necessity as a child for me; I got along fine enough on my own. My parents resented my independence at times, but to them I was just their quiet, fairly pretty, young daughter. Soon to be dead, they were probably thinking. Too bad I never got to talk to them again after that day, what with that despicable Snow. He ruined my life, many lives; he ruined my love as well.

As the Peacekeepers brought the two of us to our separate rooms in the Justice Building, where we were to say our final goodbyes to our families, I realized I had nothing to say, not really. My mother and father walked through the door, gave me a hug and kiss; told me to try hard. There were real tears in my mother's eyes I remember, ones I had never seen before. My father looked as if he was trying to compose himself, but I could see that all too familiar scary edge in his gaze. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted me to win; in his mind if I didn't win, I was a failure. His only daughter, just a weak girl who died in the Hunger Games; he could never live with that.

As they left, I formed my purpose, my goal throughout the games. I was going to try, if I came back alive, my father would get a mouthful from me; one that he would never forget.

"Annie, is it?" Those were the first words he said to me, taking me out of my blasted thoughtful oblivion. Startled, I sprang up from my spot on the light blue-sheeted bed and whipped around, straight into those mesmerizing sea green eyes.

"Oh, sorry I startled you. I'm Finnick Odair, though you probably already know that. Annie Cresta, is it?" His voice had a strange provocative purr to it, purposefully I had no doubt. He was irresistible in the Capitol, everyone ate him up, drank him in. He looked rather intimidating, to be honest.

"Oh, um yes, I'm Annie Cresta. You can call me… Annie." It took me less than a second to notice how stupid I had just sounded before my cheeks started to get really hot. I never blushed; barely talked to others… this behavior was messing with me. It must have been the reapings, the death sentence; now I'm acting like one of those giggling popular girls at school, the ones who get married at sixteen because they get pregnant or some other crazy reason. I wasn't that giggling girly girl, was I?

"Okay Annie, well I'm your mentor. Before we leave, do you have any questions? Basic questions, not specifically about the Games yet; we'll have plenty of time for that on the train." His casual manner struck me as a bit abnormal, though he was trying to be friendly, which I thought was nice. I bet most of the kids he had mentored in the five years since his victory had been… _slaughtered._ They might have been Careers, that I could not remember clearly enough, but they were still children. That was the way it was though, I supposed. Our "price" for disobeying the Capitol, all those years ago.

"No, not particularly… are we leaving now?" I was trying desperately to keep my tone friendly, casual, but I kept getting breathless. I couldn't force enough air into my lungs. It must have been nerves; I usually got this way around people: uncomfortable. Instead of replying, Finnick nodded once, grinned, and led me out of the room. As he led me down the hall and finally into a sleek, silver vehicle; automobile, was it? Even though I was in District Four, we didn't really use automobiles as transportation; boats, bicycles, and walking were just fine.

Finnick once again flashed me his "winning" smile, and I wondered if his charisma was just a façade. At that moment, that first day, I barely knew the strange, exotic, Finnick Odair.

Though soon, he would be the only one who kept me from going mad.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Finnick tried to continue with meager conversation while we road to the train station; James and I barely spoke though. His eyes flickered to mine across the seat every few minutes, why I did not know. Maybe he wanted to be allies; have me join his little Career pack, if he made one. James didn't quite give off that air of a Career tribute, though there was a certain power, a determination. It intrigued me and I could tell he would be of interest to the Capitol as well.

"We're here," Finnick chimed in a perky voice, one that I knew was fake. The way Finnick sat quietly, watching us; he knew what we were feeling. Maybe he had felt the same way during his games. Exiting the automobile, I could see a crowd forming on the outskirts of the train station, waiting to tell us goodbye as we left our home, possibly for the last time. Finnick kept a strong hold on both of our arms as we walked toward the Capitol train, the Peacekeepers forming a pathway, free of the bustling crowd.

"James!" A feminine voice screamed over the chatter. James's head whipped from side to side, scanning the groups of people; searching for someone. Finnick's grip tightened on his shoulder and the Peacekeepers moved closer in on us. James had a desperate look in his eyes, pained and enraged. The voice continued to call out for him as we climbed up the metal steps and into a beautifully decorated compartment. The Peacekeepers had begun to close the door, but not before James broke from Finnick's grip and screamed.

"Ana I love you!" His bellow rang out into the misty air before the Peacekeepers could stop it. One of the two pushed James back into the compartment before slamming the door, and he sank to his knees beside us. As I stood there, watching him, Finnick took his hand off my shoulder and kneeled beside James.

At that moment I felt a huge stab of anger invoke me that I stepped backward, stumbling. My fists balled at my sides as I steadied myself. The anger was coursing through me like fire, burning my veins; all I wanted to do was hit someone. Punch a wall, draw blood; laugh as they died before my eyes. It frightened me, but as I watched Finnick lead James to his quarters, I couldn't contain my fury. He had someone to love him, now did he? It must have been so much agony, his lost love, his little high school sweetheart. Watching him die, possibly kill me, on television in just a few weeks. At least his family cared.

"Annie?" Finnick's voice thrust me out of my furious stupor, and the anger was gone in an instance. He was staring at me with those perfect green eyes, and I realized I was shaking. "Annie, are you okay?" His face looked concerned, worried; I had never seen that expression on his face over the years of watching him in the Games. Even when his tributes were slaughtered in cold blood every year, he hadn't shown any emotions that differed from the usual provocative Finnick Odair.

"Annie Cresta, look at me." Finnick's voice was tainted with a bit of panic; I could see now how I must have looked to him; frightened out of my mind, sitting on the floor, shaking. A few moments passed where all I could do was look at him, try to convey the message I was trying to get out of my throat to him through my gaze. He seemed to understand, staring at me intently, his hands hovering over my shaking form.

"Just take a deep breath Annie, breathe." He whispered, placing his long fingers on my shoulders. I tried to do what he asked but continued to take shaking breaths, near to hyperventilating. It was ridiculous, but somehow I had lost control over myself. The day was coming to a close and it was all catching up with me; the fear, the anger. That was the moment I realized what the games could really do to me, what it had already done.

The beast that I'd chained up from my past was emerging, and soon she would escape.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey Guys, I thought I'd do one of these because it has been SO LONG since I've updated. I really have to say I'm sorry. Summer has been, well, boring, and inspiration has been a struggle. My collaboration writer Maddi has been having the same issues, so we are both just really sorry about the slow updates. Surely my stories will go back into updating season soon, especially this story and of course Camp Half Blood: Rebellion. Thank you all though!

~Lexi


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The constant shaking of the train slowly lulled me awake. I was a bit surprised to see I was wrapped up in soft sheets, the calming color of the ocean. Rolling over on the cushions, thoughts raced through my head, followed by furious blushes that warmed my face into a hot mess. Finnick must have carried me to my room. Another blush rose to my cheeks, and I analyzed myself. The nice white blouse and navy blue pencil skirt I had worn to my reaping were still firmly on my body, though my black flats had gone missing. That was reassuring, though I still scanned the room with a bit of paranoia.

The entire room was decorated with the basic likings of district four traditions, capitol style. Lush curtains that looked like running water, sandy brown carpet, cabin-like walls; my bed resembled the throne of Poseidon. It wasn't very realistic if you lived in District Four, but it was tacky and cliché; Capitol all the way. Based on what I'd heard and the previous Hunger Games I had seen, I would be meeting my team today, and possibly making it to the Capitol by late tonight. I sat up gingerly and threw the sheets off my body before heading to the obviously blue bathroom. The facilities were top-notch and huge, and the shower had so many controls I had no clue what to do.

Swearing silently to myself, I stripped down and walked into the shower, pressing a few buttons that looked familiar compared to the showers I used in my own district. They were definitely less complicated than these, but at least I could turn on the water correctly. The cycles in the shower began and warm water drenched me, followed by body wash smelling of fresh flowers, that I lathered on. My hair was sprayed with some kind of soap, which I rubbed and rinsed off vigorously. Soon enough my dark brown waves were smooth against my back and I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Annie?" Finnick's low bass was startling and loud even twenty feet away as he knocked on the door to my rooms. I yelped and fell backward into the shower's controls, hitting a few buttons as I went down. Scalding hot water jabbed at me, and a stinging spray pelted my body, leaving me screaming and trying to get out of the burning prison. I could hear Finnick trying to get inside, loud thumps registering as I pounded on the glass door, my mind not working correctly. My hand found the door handle just as he barged into the room, nearly breaking the door's hinges in the process.

"No get out!" I shrieked, covering as much of me as possible. Finnick ignored my shrieks, opening the shower door all the way and yanking me out of the scalding water. With the press of a button the water was off and he turned to face me, still gripping my arm as I frantically tried to cover myself. He was staring at me, _oh god he was staring at me. _Something inside me snapped again, that thread that had broken last night, and I threw myself at him. I could feel him tense up for a moment before putting his arms around me tentatively as I relaxed against his body.

Then reality hit me.

"No Finnick, no, I'm… sorry." Shaking my head I backed away from his gaze as it trailed down to place unknown and scooped up a towel from the nearest shelf. Something dawned in Finnick's eyes and he averted his gaze, sighing.

"Are you okay Annie?" He asked. I nodded, taking in his drenched white shirt and jeans. Both were steaming, but he didn't seem to notice.

"You look burned." My voice sounded unnatural and subdued.

"So do you. You're bright red. Let me guess; the showers were confusing?" The playful grin was back; his casual joking manner reinstated with a single question.

"You startled me and I fell on the buttons." I tried to keep my tone measured, but it kept rising and lowering. Finnick's smile faltered for a moment before he began to exit the bathroom, calling back to me.

"Breakfast is ready and Mags wants to meet you, so hurry up. Dorthy was worried you were dead or something."  
"Dorthy?" It was an odd nickname for a capitol official, a bit mocking. He shrugged.

"Her name's too long for me." With that he left, slamming the door behind him.

Once I was decently dressed in stretchy brown pants and a white v-neck, I ventured out into the halls in search of breakfast. The interior of the train was marvelous; red velvet, gold trim, crown molding. It was the kind of décor I'd only seen in magazine pictures. A young woman with an apron motioned to me from down the hall, gesturing toward a doorway I assumed was the dining room. There was a tremendous table, laden with dozens of dishes, filled with types of food I'd never seen before. Dorathea gave me a sweet smile and Finnick pointed to a plush chair next to him. Looking for food I knew of, I sat cautiously on the seat, delighted to see some chocolate chip muffins only a few inches from my plate.

As I was sipping orange juice and picking at my muffin, Dorathea clapped her hands lightly, getting everyone's halfway attention. Her fuchsia curls were piled on top of her head this morning in a tight knot, her suit-dress pumpkin orange and ghastly.

"Good Morning everyone," She chimed, "we now have our tributes, and hopefully can pull in a win this year!" Her smile was dazzling and persuasive; she didn't care whether James or I died. It was plain in her eyes, and I hated it.

Finnick sent me a knowing look; apparently that was just Dorthy. Clearing his throat, Finnick stood up and nearly cut Dorathea off mid-sentence.

"Dorthy, don't talk about the kids like they aren't here. I think we should all get properly acquainted." He turned toward James and I. "Do you two know each other?" I shook my head; James was familiar, but I didn't really know him. Surprisingly, James nodded.

"Annie's in my classes. She's really smart and actually pays attention to the teacher. No wonder she doesn't know me." He lightly touched my hand; a gesture that I knew was friendly, but I couldn't help second guessing it. _Was this his ploy, or was he really trying to become my ally?_ Maybe James was an okay guy. Holding out his hand, James spoke again. "Well Annie Cresta, I'm James O'Shan. Nice to properly meet you." I shook his hand and tried to figure out if I wanted James as a friend or enemy. Currently, he was in the middle.

Finnick chuckled and clapped James on the back; he certainly liked this male tribute.

"Alright then James, you've met Mags since she is your mentor, but Annie hasn't." Finnick gestured toward the old woman facing across from him, whom was sending me a toothless grin, some of her wrinkled features covered by a few loose strands of straggly brown hair. Her eyes were a washed out gray, and I could tell Mags wasn't all the way there. There were many stories about her fish hooks, baskets, and mumblings though.

"Ann'ie, 'ow yo'" Mags muttered, giving me a salute with a nut-filled hand.

"Hello Mags," I greeted, grabbing a piece of toast and buttering it. She smiled and went back to her breakfast, as did the rest of us. Dorthy soon enough interrupted us again; she couldn't seem to enjoy silence.

"After breakfast we are going to watch the reapings." Dorthy chimed. Everyone muttered incoherent responses and got back to their food.

_You'll find out who you're up against, _I thought.

_You'll see who you'll have to kill, or who will kill you._


End file.
